


Wrecked

by inlaterdays



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Drama, M/M, Missing Scene, Vignette, canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 21:19:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2556074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlaterdays/pseuds/inlaterdays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I Want to Believe missing scene fic. Mulder has just been purposely run off the road and flipped down an embankment by a snowplow. This scene takes place before he emerges from the wreck. Originally posted to mk_drabbles on LiveJournal on 6 Aug 2008.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrecked

"Dumbass," said the upside-down dead man.

Mulder was in the same inverted position, he found. He was confused, but he wasn't _that_ confused. He knew an hallucination when he heard one, especially this particular hallucination. Or ghost. Whatever the hell the cool non-corporeal kids were calling themselves these days.

"Krycek," he groaned. "You always show up at the worst possible times, you know that?"

The other man grinned. "Might be a connection there. Think about it."

"All I can think about is that the car's probably totaled and I'm trapped in the snow, freezing, on my head, talking to someone who isn't here. And I'm probably about to die."

"A reasonable assessment of the situation, except for that last part."

"Suddenly you're an optimist?" Mulder was angry. "What do you care? Just leave me to die already."

"Nah," Krycek's voice was unexpectedly gentle, and that made the next part hurt worse. "I'm not like you," he said quietly.

Mulder flinched. _Maybe I'm dead already, and I'm in Hell._ "What are you here for, then? Just to twist the knife? To watch me suffer?"

"To make sure you get yourself out."

"I'm trapped, you idiot!"

"Only in your mind. As usual. So many options you never explored..." Krycek's expression grew unreadable, and he fell silent.

_Shit, don't disappear on me now._

"Enlighten me." Mulder hoped he'd kept the pleading tone out of his voice.

"You can just reach the seat adjustment lever if you strain. Your arms are long. Slide that back so the airbag's out of your way. Undo the seatbelt so your left arm won't be pinned. Then you can roll down the window and crawl out. Left arms," Krycek said, looking with fondness at his. "Never realize how useful they are until they're gone."

Mulder suddenly decided that following Krycek's advice would be infinitely preferable to listening to an extended encomium on his formerly-missing limb, no matter what position they were in. "Fine," he said. "While you're busy composing a sonnet to your own elbow, I'm out of here."

His dark-haired companion just smiled.

To Mulder's surprise, Krycek's plan worked. He squeezed out of the wreck, breathing in deep and painful lungfuls of the frigid air. "Thanks," he said, too out of breath from his exertions to be more effusive, and reached a hand back into the car's dark interior. His hand was not taken; when he peered inside again, the seats were empty.

He stood up, brushing snow off himself. _I will never figure this out, not if I live forever. But...god **damn** it, why couldn't things have been like this when you were here?_

A breeze blew past his cheek, not an icy draft, but an oddly warm one, making his face feel slightly heated in the same spot where once, long ago...

...of course it was his imagination.

 _Bastard,_ Mulder thought.

And, grudgingly, sadly: _...I miss you..._

He trudged on alone through the cold and the dark, along the path he'd chosen.


End file.
